Effrontery and Implausible Deniability
by Sandpiper
Summary: Dark musings from Sark and Lauren after Facade. Mentionings of several parings, however they are all only implied. Not a romantic fic.
1. Effrontery

Effrontery

I smirk coolly as Agent Vaughn shoves me up the isle. He probably thinks I'm simply faking it to intimidate him. Little does he know I actually have a reason to be amused this time.

_"Dude, I totally nailed your wife!"_ I hear a frat boy voice inside my head say.

I smile a little more at the voice. Never mind the utter hilarity of what would happen if he knew. If I told him right this instant he'd be thrilled, whether he would admit it to himself or not. It'd give him an excuse to leave Lauren without it simply being because he'd rather be with Sydney Bristow. If I did that that for him he'd probably kiss me himself.

I raise my eyebrows and chuckle over the thought. It would certainly be an interesting conquest. I didn't do it very often, but I was willing to risk being labeled as 'swinging both ways'. Certain men presented opportunities that were too fun to pass up, and Michael Vaughn was the perfect type. Straight as an arrow, very secure, and hardly ever doubted what he knew about himself.

Everyone is bisexual to a certain extent though. Even if it's only the tiny bit that allows you to judge attractiveness in your own gender. Anyone can find pleasure strictly from physical stimulation as well. I probably wouldn't even have to use my mouth with him if I was to go through with it, just shove my tongue down his throat and grind against him until he became aroused enough that he'd start grinding back.

I chuckle some more and wonder if he would taste similar to how Lauren did. I recall her climbing into my lap in the car. She used all the right moves to make me slip into a haze before I even realized it was happening. At which point she tore herself away from me and ordered "Get us back to the hotel now!"

I realized why she had been acting the way she had. She liked playing with me because she thought she could get me to do whatever she wanted. I didn't much care for the preconception but you know how the saying goes: never bite the hand that feeds you...at least until after the meal.

So I kept my peace for then. She slipped off her shirt the moment she walked in the door and it couldn't have been more than ten minutes before the rest of our clothes went the same way. I remembered how it felt to slip between her thighs and feel her moving against me.

_"Damn,"_ I think to myself realizing that between the idea of him and the memory of her I might be able to get going enough to actually go trough with it. That is if it were a better situation.

I struggle to bite back a full out laugh when Agent Vaughn tells me to go inside the lavatory.

Perfect set up, the traditional conduit to the mile high club and everything.

I see him glaring at me in the mirror as he handcuffs me. He thinks I act like this around him because I, like everyone else who knows them and has more than two brain cells, know how in love with Sydney he is. He thinks everyone in the spy world sees it as pathetic. I don't though, I know what it's like to have a woman who you love unconditionally.

I must considering how thinking of him and Sydney always makes me think if Allison. It's been so long since I've seen her but I remember what she was like all the same. I remember how she hated the fact that she had to spend the rest of her life looking like someone else. She thought she looked terrible. I didn't care one bit though. I knew it was her in there and that was all that mattered.

I grumble inwardly. Depressing thoughts these. Besides I've got bigger things to worry about right now.

I suppose I could let Agent Vaughn figure it out for himself. He would eventually...I guess. Though, where would the fun in that be?

I clue him in with slight ambiguity and watch his expression as the light bulb goes on. He turns around out the door and leaves me standing alone. I set myself down on the toilet with a sigh as I know there's nothing to do now other than twiddle my thumbs and hope the CIA can find a away to defuse whatever's been planted on this plane.


	2. Implausible Deniability

Implausible Deniability

I shove the last few bites of croissant into my mouth and chase it with the remains of my triple shot espresso. I finish the last of the coffee, slam the cup down into the sink, and immediately burp without warning. The back of my had flies to my mouth as I feel the acid burning in my throat and think momentarily that I might throw it back up again.

Once I'm certain I won't I lower my hand and look at my reflection in the mirror. I'm quite a sight. Cramming down breakfast in the CIA bathroom in the wrinkled suit I wore yesterday on the plane.

I was so tired last night that I simply dropped my bags, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed into bed. This morning I got called early by the NSC telling me that they wanted me to interview Sark right away now that the CIA had him in custody.

Yeah, the idiot got himself captured which meant now I was going to be running the North American sector all by myself.

I had to run out the door so quickly that I didn't have time to change. Luckily though I still had my garment bag in the car with a clean suit in it. I parked near the door, grabbed the suit, and beeline for the first floor bathroom. I don't think anyone saw me.

I shed my old suit and opened the bag to get out the clean one. I step into the skirt and sigh, sarcastically thanking Michael for not waking me up when he left.

Though, I suppose maybe he thought I'd like to sleep since I was supposed to have that day off. A voice in the back of my mind laughs at that. I glare at my reflection and tell it to shut up. It refuses to though.

_"Who do you think you're kidding?"_ it asks, _"Do you actually believe he even thinks of you that much anymore?"_

I zip up the skirt and then start on the buttons of my blouse. _"Why not?"_ I ask it, _"I'm his wife after all."_

The voice nearly dies laughing at that one. I roll my eyes. I realize that I'm only his wife in the most liberal interpretation of the word now, but it wouldn't be that way if it weren't for Sydney Bristow! What was it about her that everyone seemed to just love so much?

_"Does it matter?"_ the voice asks, _"Whatever it is it makes him love her."_

_"He loves me," _I tell the voice.

_"Yeah...and what would you know about that?"_ it asks.

I sigh. It was true that I wasn't knowledgeable on the subject first hand. I didn't love people. Love made you weak. I got used to Michael loving me though. He always made me feel like everything he did was only for me.

_"It wasn't though was it?" _the voice asks, _"It was for her."_

I grit my teeth, _"Why should he love her anyway? I'm exactly his type. I even heard from his friends that he likes blondes."_

_"Maybe but you've seen for yourself that there's a certain brunette he likes far better,"_ the voice says.

_"I've been the perfect wife for him! I act all nice and sweet. I do practically anything he asks!" _I rant.

_"Yes, that's true you do," _the voice points out, _"so how come he hardly ever asks for anything when you're offering it so freely?"_

_"It's because he has that nice guy honor code he holds himself to-" _I tell myself.

_"It's because he's overcompensating!" _The voice says forcefully, _"He knows he was settling when he married you so to make up for the fact that he was taking second best since the woman he truly wanted was dead he decided to make up for it by being the world's most perfect husband! Haven't you seen how differently he acts at work around her?"_

I chuckle at my stupid inner arguments. There was proof in it self that him and Sydney wouldn't work out. No woman can change a man and even if one can it doesn't last. He gets tired of it eventually and ends up hating her for it.

I shake my head as I open my purse and pull out my lipstick case. I should just let him off. Give him a divorce, let him go back with Sydney, see how long it takes before they get tired of each other. I see how everyone is around them. They all seem to think it's true love. True love my ass! I bet he'd miss me within a year!

"He would miss me," I mutter out loud to the mirror.

I start dabbing on the lipstick and wonder if Michael would come crawling back to me once he did. Why not? After all he had the audacity to go crawling back to her.

I imagine the words _"Oh Lauren, I was such a fool."_

I smirk widely at the thought. Yeah...that would be just divine.

I snap the cap back onto the lip stick and put it away. Next, I yank on my bra straps until my breasts look nice through the shirt and apply extra eyeliner. It's more than I usually wear at the office, but he seems like it so it'll be worth it. Dixon and Jack Bristow aren't likely to say anything, and Michael, Weiss, and Sydney aren't likely to notice.

I gather up my things, take them upstairs and shove them under my desk. Next, I grab a folder from my brief case and head down to the holding cells. I walk towards the last cell contemplating putting a little extra sway into my hips as I go. I decide against that though, he'd see through it in an instant.

When I get to the cell he's laying on his back staring at the ceiling.

"Mr. Sark," I say to get his attention. He turns his head around and slowly slides off the cot to come stand in front of me.

"Ms. Reed," He says, "I believe we've met before."

I ignore the reference to the parking garage incident and continue on with my little act, "I'm here on behalf of the United States government to offer you help if you're willing to help us."

"Really?" He asks uninterestedly.

"You worked with Arvin Sloane before so I assume you know where he his now. We can be surprisingly accommodating if you're willing to convince us you truly deserve it," I ramble on as I lean over to drop the folder into the drawer which will carry it to his side of the glass. As I do so I wait to feel his eyes roaming over me, but the moment doesn't come.

I stand up rather quickly to look at his eyes but I find he has them turned to one side of the wall. I scratches the back of his head for a moment before looking back at me as if he just remembered I was even there.

"Yes, well...I'll give it a thought and get back to you on it," he says.

With that he goes back over to the metal cot on the wall and lays down, "Good day, Ms. Reed."

I slowly turn away feeling myself nearly shaking with anger. How dare he try to play with me and make me think he's not interested anymore! That cocky little snit! He can't fool me! He wants to fuck me day and night! Moron thinks he can fool me!

I go back up to the main level and see several people gathered around Weiss's desk. Michael and Sydney are there and they're speaking directly to each other while everyone else seems to simply be blending into the group. I hear the voice in the back of my mind snicker slightly as I grip my fists tightly together and tell it, again, to shut up.

The End


End file.
